


Arachnophobia

by ncfan



Series: Nan Elmoth [11]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Spiders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 23:23:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncfan/pseuds/ncfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maeglin wonders why his mother doesn't like spiders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arachnophobia

His mother doesn't like spiders, Maeglin is discovering. Aredhel does not like spiders at all, and isn't even remotely subtle about it. It's easy to tell when she's spotted a spider; Maeglin will watch her eyes wander around the room or corridor, watch her start to rub her right forearm reflexively.

When the spider is actually in reach, Aredhel will usually try to kill it. Maeglin actually heard his father laugh once to see her downright ferocious attempts to hit a fleeing spider with her shoe. Today, the spider in question is creeping up and down the wall, and Aredhel's weapon is not one of her shoes but a broom usually left leaning against the wall.

It might… No, it would certainly be easier for her to deal a fatal blow with the handle of the broom, rather than the stiff brushes. Maeglin opens his mouth to say that, but just at that moment, the spider starts to crawl drunkenly up the broom itself, and Aredhel promptly drops it and starts to back away.

Maeglin catches the spider in his hands and decides to just go put it outside, rather than kill it. It's less trouble, that way.

Later, he will ask his mother, "Why do you dislike spiders?"

Aredhel will not be able to give him an answer. She pauses, going stock-still, brow furrowing. There's a look in her eyes as though she half-remembers the reason why, but she can't grasp the reason in her mind. That's nothing unusual; Maeglin is used to seeing such a straining, troubled look on his mother's face. For a moment, she starts to breathe very hard. Her hand flies to her right forearm, where Maeglin knows there to be a faint, silvery scar; her mind is so jumbled that that a knotted skein would likely be easier to sort out.

"I… I'm not sure," Aredhel mutters. She will say no more than that.


End file.
